


Kiss My Sass

by HowCleverOfYou



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: I am so sorry for this, I wanted to write a Project Runway AU but this happened instead, Isaac is the sassiest fuck you will ever see, M/M, Movie Star AU, What the actual fuck, non Wolf AU, so much sass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-06
Updated: 2013-11-06
Packaged: 2017-12-31 17:12:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1034238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HowCleverOfYou/pseuds/HowCleverOfYou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Isaac hates being so fabulous and attractive. It’s a lot of work. Bitch could hurt himself in those heels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss My Sass

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry.
> 
> (Depending on the popularity of this story and whether or not my embarrassment fades, this work may or may not be deleted in a timely manner.)

Isaac has to sit in the ice bath for a good ten minutes, shivering so hard his teeth keep knocking together, before Derek stops grumbling behind the camera and calls scene. Three girls wearing beige tee shirts and headsets rush forward to help him out of the tub and he gratefully accepts the blanket the blonde one drapes around his shoulders.

“Jesus fuck,” he bites out. That’s the third time they’ve filmed this scene and he’s not entirely certain they’re finished just yet. Derek Hale is known for his perfect camera angles and light shots and whatever other fancy-shmanchy work he does. Whatever it is, he’s pretty well-renowned and critically-acclaimed. Isaac is lucky to have been cast in one of his films.

Erica, the girl who had brought him the blanket, keeps rubbing at his arms, trying to get the blood circulating.

“You’ll be fine,” she tells him. “Just give it a few minutes.”

Someone else comes by and gives him a cup of tea, but he doesn’t see who. He keeps his gaze fixed on Derek, who’s arguing with the producer/writer Chris Argent. They’re pointing and making angry faces at each other but he can’t hear what they’re saying over the bustle of the cast and crew.

“Hey, man.” Isaac turns when Scott squeezes his shoulders from behind. “Nice take. Your Latin’s getting better.”

“The hell do I need to chant for in the first place,” he grumbles into his coffee. Erica grins.

“Exorcism,” Scott says. “You’re trying to exorcise the demon from within you.”

“I thought it was a wolf.”

“A demon wolf.”

“I literally–“ Isaac shakes his head and sucks his cheeks in.

“I need a favor.” He turns to look more fully at Scott. He’s about a head taller but Scott seems to fill up so much more space. He has a great energy. Plus, he’s the reason Isaac’s even here in the first place. Isaac doesn’t do favors for many people, but Scott is one person he definitely owes.

Isaac yawns at him, one eyebrow cocked.

“I need to go pick up my buddy from the airport. Can you stall for me?”

“Dude, come on.” He makes a noncommittal gesture by flailing his cup of tea around. “I just finished filming. You’re up next.”

“Ah, yes, but the look Derek keeps giving Chris over there suggests otherwise.”

“I’m going to get fucking hypothermia.” He gulps down the rest of his tea. It burns his throat. “Fuck it, fuck this, fuck you.” He shrugs off the blanket and calls out, “Derek. We going again?”

“I owe you one,” Scott hisses at him, and high tails it away.

xxx

Out of all of the cast and crew, Isaac is tied on a favorite. Scott is awesome because Scott is Scott, plus they’d met in an elevator at the bank and Scott was like, “Hey, man, nice scarf,” and Isaac had said, “Thanks,” and Scott was like, “Hey, listen, there’s this movie…”

But he also likes Allison, who is coincidentally an extension of Scott, an awful lot, too. She’s cheeky and funny and charming and if she wasn’t already Scott’s live-in girlfriend (or the reason Scott has a job in the first place, probably, because Chris Argent would probably make posters for his movies out of sheets of Scott’s skin and illustrate them with his blood) Isaac would ask her to be his roommate in point five seconds flat. He thinks they would be awesome together.

She wails at him over the phone later that night, just high pitched noises of displeasure. He can hear Scott and his airport friend gaming intensely in the background.

“Boys suck,” she declares. There’s a slapping sound like maybe she’s thrown her flats at them. Isaac takes a moment to feel sad because flats those cute don’t deserve to be treated like that. In the background, there’s muffled shouting. “You guys suck,” she repeats, this time louder and aimed away from Isaac.

“You can come live with me, if you want,” he tells her. He’s lying in his pajamas on his bed. It’s ten o’clock at night and he has to be up at six tomorrow for shooting. He wants to cry, but he also wants to catch up on BBC Atlantis.

She whines at him. “All of my stuff is here.”

“If it makes you feel better, we can go shooting on my next day off.”

She exhales loudly into the phone. “You hate guns.”

“You hate shopping.”

“And yet I do it anyway – _awwww_.” She coos into the phone for a minute and Isaac rolls onto his stomach. “I love you more than I love my boyfriend.”

That must catch Scott’s attention because the sound cuts out and Scott’s voice is suddenly up close. “Are we being too loud? Sorry, babe, we can close up for the night.”

Isaac’s laughter covers up the irritated shouting from Scott’s friend. “You’ve whipped him good.”

“Isaac says hi.”

“Hi, Isaac,” Scott shouts. For reasons neither Allison nor Isaac can figure out, he can’t seem to figure out how to work electronics. If he’s talking on the phone, it’s all good – but god forbid apps open or there’s call waiting or someone tries to put him on speakerphone.

“The speaker’s right there. He can hear you.” Allison sighs and the game resumes in the background. “I’m gonna go and put the boys to bed. Call me when you’re on break, okay? I’ll run over and we can have coffee.”

“Please don’t remind me.” The paycheck is great, but Derek’s abuse; not quite.

“Hang in there, babe. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Isaac hangs up his phone and throws it onto his bedside table. He grunts and rolls onto his back to stare at the ceiling.

When he’d first moved into this apartment with his brother, way back when he was twelve and his brother was seventeen and emancipated, they’d stuck those glow-in-the-dark stars up on the ceiling above Isaac’s bed. He’d peeled them off when he was sixteen and entertaining the possibility of bringing someone home, but with the room dark and the windows heavily curtained, he can still see the faint outline of yellow against the deep endlessness of the space above him.

xxx

Scott doesn’t show up to set until eight o’clock. By that time, Isaac has already slumped his way through five scenes of intense potion-drinking and werewolf-transforming. Isaac almost wishes his character would give up already because one of these days he’s got to realize that _there is no cure_. He dies at the end of the movie. Come on, man. Live out your last days with pleasure.

Anyway, Scott shows up like a white girl to class, Starbucks cup in hand and hair still half-damp. He doesn’t have his cell phone out for once because the person he’s usually texting is standing right next to him.

Scott’s Friend isn’t particularly handsome. In fact, Isaac doesn’t give him as much as a second glance. He’s kind of pale and scrawny and he’s got a weirdly wide mouth. He’s laughing like Scott’s just said the funniest thing and the sound disrupts Isaac’s scene of fruitless banging around the kitchen. He doesn’t know why his character is banging around the kitchen, but he is, so he just goes with it until he’s too distracted to slam cabinets anymore.

“Cut!” Derek shouts and everyone not rushing up to fix the props and Isaac’s makeup turn to stare at Scott and Scott’s Friend.

“Sorry, sorry,” Scott says, holding his hands up. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.” Regardless, he strolls up onto the set and stands as close to Isaac as he can get with the swarm of people around him. “What’s up?”

“I’m questioning the meaning of life,” Isaac says.

“Allison said you guys were color-coordinating today.”

Isaac rolls his eyes towards the ceiling because wow, Scott. Just wow. “Not until Friday.  We can’t color-coordinate on days I’m shooting because I only stay in my street clothes for like five minutes.”

Scott’s Friend looks like he’s on the verge of laughter so Isaac sneers at him. _He_ probably does weird shit, too. Isaac makes it his personal mission to find weird things that Scott’s Friend does and judge him for it.

“Oh,” Scott says, like he’s forgotten he’s the only person within spitting distance who knows the Judgey Guy. “Isaac, this is Stiles. Stiles, Isaac’s one of the MCs.”

“MCS,” Stiles says, smiling like a little bitch. “I can see.”

“You suck,” Isaac tells him. “Go away, I’m supposed to be slamming cabinets.”

He motions to Derek and all of the techs scatter. Stiles, though, takes his sweet time backing away, hands deep in his pockets, eyeing him up like a good deal at the furniture store. Finally, he gets far enough back that Derek starts to roll.

Every cabinet Isaac slams, he pretends he’s slamming it right into Stiles’ smirky, judgey face.

xxx

Allison appears suddenly from behind one of the closed doors and only then does Isaac let himself relax, his whole body lolling out. He’s tired from filming and he’s tired from hating Scott’s friend.

“I’m tired from filming and I’m tired from hating Scott’s friend,” he tells Allison once she plops down next to him. She hands him a coffee and he kisses the air and hopes it gets blown in her general direction.

“He’s not so bad,” she tells him. “You’ve just got to get used to him.”

“He judged me.”

“You judge people all the time.”

“Oh, yeah? What did you think the first time you saw me?”

 Isaac gives her an intense side-eye because fuck. He’s been caught. He sighs. “I thought you looked like a bitch.”

“And you were right!” She leans into him slightly. “I’m a bitch and you are quick to judge. I bet you thought he was hot. I bet you were slamming those cabinets while thinking about slamming him.”

“Fuck me,” Isaac says in exasperation. “I need twelve shots of vodka and all six seasons of Lost to get through the rest of today.”

They silently watch the crew help construct one of Lydia’s scenes for a while.

“You know what’s funny?” Allison says eventually. “Your dad tried to beat the gay right out of you, but it had completely reverse effects.”

“Gee, that’s hilarious,” he deadpans, not taking his eyes off Lydia as she shrieks out her window at what will be a CGI wolf.

“No, no, like – he tried to change you, but instead of pretending _not_ to be gay, you just amped it right up. You say shit just for the sake of _sounding gay_. Way to flaunt it, Liberache.”

“Yeah, well, your dad set your boyfriend on fire.”

They turn to glare at each other in unison.

“You’re going to be so sad when I go away this summer,” she tells him. “You’re going to watch the archery competition on TV and cry your sad little eyes out because you’re a friendless loser.”

“Screw that,” he responds. “Two weeks in hot tents with fifty other people? With bows and arrows? _Outside_? I’d rather break a nail.”

“Oh, don’t worry, you’ll be painting them as you watch me kick ass.”

“Sweetheart, _I’ll_ be the one with the ass. Riiiiight here.” He gestures to his crotch and she muffles her laughter in the sleeve of her sweater.

Stiles, who is walking down the staircase next to them, trips and falls down the rest of the flight.

Allison jumps up to make sure he’s okay but Isaac stays where he’s sitting and just stares, one eyebrow cocked up. He’s always had a weird sense for who he’s going to be banging by the end of the film (because he’s always found someone to bang by the end of his projects, even back at the office – Matt? Dat ass, man. Dat ass.) and he feels that portion of himself come alive. It’s not his dick, it’s – it’s his brain, and there’s a piece of it that goes off like a siren whenever he gets near someone he’s going to bang, kind of like his dick is a fortune teller or something.

But anyway, his fortune telling dick is telling him that Stiles is going to be the one in front of him while he watches Allison kick ass on TV. Stiles is going to be sleeping at his apartment instead of Scott’s by the end of his stay.

Isaac doesn’t know if it sucks or not that it’s going to be _Stiles._ (Except, yeah, definite sucking in his future. _Definite sucking_.) Couldn’t it be like Danny or Derek or, shit, even Greenberg, even though he’d recently grown a Jamie Hyneman mustache that did not suit his slender yet muscular frame.

Sometimes Isaac hates being so fabulous and attractive. It’s a lot of work. Bitch could hurt himself in those heels.

xxx

The next morning, Isaac doesn’t have to work until ten, so he walks from his apartment to the Starbucks two blocks down. He likes to enjoy the relative freedom that comes with pendulum-swinging between being famous and being ordinary. Someday he’s not going to be able to walk down the Hollywood streets without bundling up nice and warm like Leonardo DiCaprio.

The Starbucks line isn’t too long, not for Wednesday at eight in the morning, so he takes his place behind some guy in a blue baseball cap and bounces on the balls of his feet as he waits. He barely has time to get into the Adele song playing overhead when the person standing behind him taps him on the shoulder.

“Isaac, right?” It’s Stiles. Of _course_ it’s Stiles.

“Stiles.” Isaac gives him an Ice Queen stare and hope he’ll stop talking.

“How’s filming going?”

“You saw me ten hours ago,” Isaac tells him. “You were there. You know how it’s going.”

“Why do you hate me?” Stiles asks. Isaac glances at the line in front of him and notes sadly that there’s still a wait. “As previously stated, we met yesterday. Was it the MCS thing?”

“What?”

“Obviously not. So what’s the issue? Did my mismatched socks offend you?”

“That’s it, then, right? I’m gay, so I’m offended by bad fashion choices?” He had to slip the _bad_ in there. He _had_ to.

Stiles squints at him for a minute. “Your scarf matches your socks.”

“Yeah, well, your face matches your ass.” He doesn’t mean to say it, but it just slips out. He bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing.

Stiles stares at him with a blank expression for a full thirty seconds before bursting out with laughter.

Isaac blushes and shuffles forward a bit where the line has moved.

“See?” Stiles is grinning now, eyes bright, and Isaac suddenly finds it difficult to hate him. “Now _this_ is queer representation. You’re gay and like something out of Project Runway. I’m gay and most of my jeans don’t fit. This is good. Diversity!”

“Not all gays watch Project Runway,” Isaac says defensively. He does, of course. He also feels slightly wounded. Also also, slightly hopefully, because the aforementioned sucking would be a lot easier if Stiles actually liked sucking. Or being sucked by someone without a vertical smile.

“Oh, believe me,” Stiles says. “Nobody is adverse to the effects of Project Runway. It’s on Scott’s DVR and I swear to you that Allison would never watch it.”

“She likes Top Shot,” Isaac says offhandedly. “She also likes to make fun of America’s Next Top Model.”

“Yeah, but who doesn’t?”

The man in the blue baseball cap finally orders. When Isaac comes up to the counter, Stiles jumps forward and pushes him aside to thrust a handful of money at the barista.

“I haven’t even ordered yet, weirdo,” Isaac says reproachfully.

“Well, order, then. Stop holding up the line.”

Isaac allows a second to glare before he sighs out _skinny chocolate chip frappachino with a shot of espresso also caramel no whipped cream_. Stiles asks for a plain black coffee and they go stand too close together down along the counter.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Isaac says, because he feels weird now.

“First date, right?” Stiles wiggles his eyebrows. “Unless you have a boyfriend, of course. Then he needs to step aside.”

“ _Someone_ is rather forward.”

“You said I have an ass face. And, judging by the fact that I am undeniably handsome, I took it as a compliment. In which case: your face is awfully ass-like as well.”

“Meet Isaac Lahey, from Chris Argent’s _Beneath the Moonlight_ ,” Isaac mutters into the rapidly decreasing space between them. “He’s about to kiss this guy he met yesterday. This fate could’ve been avoided if he had a sassy gay friend.”

“I’m a stupid bitch,” Stiles lisps back, then leans up quickly and kisses Isaac on the mouth.

xxx

“No judgment,” Isaac says as he falls into the chair next to Allison. “I made out with Stiles in Starbucks.”

She chokes on her a bite of sesame seeds from her bagel and he raps her on the back until her hacking fades into wheezes.

“Here, let’s fast forward, shall we? _Why? He’s Scott’s best friend! I thought you loved me best! Damn girl you move fast. What were you wearing?_ No, scratch that last bit, that’s something I would ask. Did I cover it all?”

Allison keeps gaping at him. He smiles at her and jumps back up.

“All-righty, then. I’ll take to you later, babe. Bye.”

He high tails the fuck right out of there before any sort of hell can break loose.

xxx

Stiles makes him blueberry pancakes in return for the hurried fuck they have against the back of Isaac’s couch. The pancakes are warm and sweet and Stiles goes off for a full five minutes about how the blueberries are supposed to go _in_ the batter, not on top, because blueberry pancakes aren’t blueberry pancakes if the blueberries are added last minute, like an afterthought. Stiles scoffs and Isaac thinks it’s weird that he’s so passionate about the subject of pancakes, but then he realizes – _this is it._ This is something weird that Stiles does that Isaac can judge him for. Isaac feels triumphant, because they’re finally even.

After breakfast, he goes and puts on a red shirt to match Allison’s red pants and a black scarf to compliment her black blouse. He hopes she wears the kitten heels he’d picked out for her at Macy’s. They would be soooo cute to wear to the theater. Talk about a show stopper.

Stiles grins at him, still only in a pair of pajamas pants (with nothing underneath! Isaac was lucky enough to find that out himself), and stays hunched over a book in the kitchen as Isaac lets himself out.

Allison is wearing the kitten heels, but the shade green she turns when she sees him crossing the street ruins her entire look.

“Oh, God,” she says. Allison may not be as tapped into her feminine side as Isaac is (to both of theirs, actually – he knows what she wants even if she doesn’t realize it herself. Those $15 eco makeup brushes? To die for.), but she still has that best-friend telepathy of knowing when someone gets laid. “Please tell me it was anyone but Stiles.”

“Do you know he’s a hair puller?” Isaac says, and grins when Allison mimes throwing up in the bushes. “Come on. Be happy. If we get married, I’ll be your brother-in-law.”

“Let’s keep that in the future for now, big boy,” she says.

Four hours later, he’s singing show tunes as he unlocks the door. Stiles is still there. He’s lounging across the couch, unfortunately dressed, now, and keeping an iPad propped up with his knee.

Isaac belts out a few notes at him as he unwinds his scarf because maybe there’d been a few drinks during intermission. And afterwards. Stiles laughs and sings along.

“What’re you watching?” he asks. He plops down on the couch and pulls Stiles’ feet into his lap.

Stiles lets the iPad drop and gives Isaac this look like the Devil went down on Georgia.

“So unfortunately, your imdb is empty.”

“This is my first film.”

“Ah.” Stiles quirks an eyebrow and moves a hand to rub low on his stomach. “You did stuff in college, though, right? The Crew Man Troupe.”

“Noooooo,” Isaac whines. He throws his head back. “No, don’t do this to me.”

Stiles puts the iPad aside and moves to straddle Isaac, who changes his mind.

“Ohhh, yes,” he says instead, closing his eyes when Stiles begins to move against him. “Please do this to me.”

xxx

_…Isaac Lahey’s character, Robert Claghan, was particularly interesting – Lahey’s intense portrayal of his struggle with the same lycanthropy that also took his family is touching, and somewhat mirrors the actor’s personal life. A now brotherless orphan, Lahey has clawed his way to fame and fortune through a chance encounter with costar Scott McCall in a bank elevator. What will come of this handsome star next? We will wait with bated breath to see…_


End file.
